Reuniting
by A Caccia Di Stelle
Summary: On the evening Daisy and Gatsby plan to confront Tom about their affair, a surprise guest changes everything. Gatsby is taken back to April 15, 1912, when he went down with a ship and the red haired rose that held his heart.


**So, let's just say that Jack Dawson (from **_**TItanic**_**) and Jay Gatsby (from **_**The Great Gatsby**_**) were one in the same. Paint a picture for yourselves where Jack was rescued from the ocean and taken to New York. They asked him who he was and he created, in that split second, Jay Gatsby -the kind of man Rose, who he thought was gone forever- had really deserved. He went on to join the army and, after a long series of events, met Daisy. The rest of the story plays out as is. He leaves for the war, stays in Europe for a bit of time, and then comes back and buys his castle-like mansion across the bay from Daisy. **

**Following me? **

**Now, let's go to Rose. She's a young girl practically starting over in New York. Her good name still holds true, but not as strongly as before. Years pass, she matures and grows, keeping Jack always in her heart. One day a friend of hers (Jordan Baker; say they met at a lunch or something), this friend being a bit lower on the social scale, just happens to mention a party at Gatsby's. Rose inquires as to who the man is and her friend invites her along. She agrees, and finds herself in the middle of the craziness that is Gatsby's house on a Friday night. There she meets Nick Carraway (think of this around the time when Gatsby invites Daisy and Tom to one of his parties). They acquaint themselves and she decides she likes him well enough. **

**Following me?**

**Skip forward to the night Gatsby and Daisy plan to confront Tom about their relationship. Nick and Jordan, in hopes of bringing Rose into their circle of friends, invite Rose to the dinner. Let's see how it would all play out, shall we?**

**(Movie setting because it's easier. Takes place in Tom and Daisy's dining room. Hope you guys like it.)**

* * *

Gatsby reached for Daisy's hand, opening his lips to speak. "It's hot," Daisy cut in, standing quickly. "Everything's so confused. What will we do with ourselves this afternoon, or the day after that, or the next thirty years?" She took the napkin she'd been mangling, twisting it hard before she moved to stand in front of the fan.

"Don't be morbid," Jordan droned, waving her hand dismissively.

"Unsettled, Daisy?" Tom asked, lowering the cigar he'd been smoking. He looked towards his wife, narrowing his eyes, raising one brow curiously.

"It's just hot," she retorted, lifting a cigarette with shaking hands. She tried to light it, but her fingers slipped and the lighter fell heavily to the floor. Gatsby was at her side in seconds, raising the lighter to her cigarette carefully.

"Daisy," he said gently. "Breathe."

She smiled, nervousness in her eyes, letting out a puff of smoke before she spoke. "You look so cool. You always look so cool, like the advertisement of the man in times square. The man in the cool, beautiful shirts."

Tom lowered his hand to the ash trey and put his cigar out. "Mr. Gatsby," he called, "I've a question for you."

Gatsby turned back to face the man slowly, his eyebrows scrunching together. "Go on, Mr. Buchanan."

"Just what kind of a row are you trying to cause in my house?"

"He's not causing a row, Tom, you are," Daisy snapped lightly, stepping around Gatsby to sit back at the table. She sat small, but with her shoulders squared. There was slight courage in her eyes. "Show a little self control."

"Self control," Tom said the words slowly, cold bemusement in his bright eyes. "I suppose it's the new thing to do, sit back while the nobody from nowhere makes love to your wife. If that's the idea, count me out."

"Your wife doesn't love you," Gatsby announced, lifting his chin. Tom froze, tilting his head curiously at Gatsby's words. They reached his ears and he deemed them ridiculous and impossible. "She never loved you, she loves me." Gatsby went on. Light danced in his eyes, as if the truth he'd just spoken had lifted a burden from his very soul.

"You're crazy," Tom said lowly.

"No, old sport. No, you see. She never loved you. She married you only because I was poor and she could no longer wait. In her heart, though, it was always me." Gatsby placed a hand on the back of Daisy's chair, watching Tom with a slight smile.

Daisy stood quickly, her former courage dissipated. She stood on her tiptoes, as if she were about to run.

"Daisy, please," Gatsby said gently, moving his hand to her back, "please sit down." His voice was low, cajoling. She sat slowly and Gatsby sat with her.

"Daisy," Tom said softly, watching her as he moved closer, "tell me what's been going on-"

"I just told you," Gatsby jumped in. "I told you what's been going on and it's been going on for five years."

"Five years?" Tom asked, low anger beneath the surface of his words. "Have you been seeing him for five years?"

"Not seeing," Gatsby answered. "We couldn't. But we loved each other all that time.'

"You're crazy," Tom repeated with a wild laugh. "Five years ago, I didn't know Daisy, so I can't say anything for that, but I don't know how the hell you got within a mile of her. Were you the grocery boy, delivering vegetables to her back door?" He dropped a cube of ice into a glass, poured a drink.

"I don't even care," he decided, "because everything else is a lie. Daisy did love me. Loves me still, and what's more is that I love her."

Gatsby pressed his lips into a tight line, repeating the word no. Daisy, however, watched Tom with uncertain eyes.

Tom met her eyes. "I love you Daisy. I know I have my sprees, but who do I always come back to? In my heart I love you all the time."

"You're revolting," Daisy rasped. "Do you know why we left Chicago?" She was standing now, rising with ridiculing eyes. She was moving to the window. "Tell them the story about that little spree." The wind met her face, brushing along her cheek, and she closed her eyes for a short moment. She wished that she could blow away with it and escape her current circumstances.

"That's all over now, Daisy. Just tell him the truth -you never loved him. Tell him that and this all ends." Gatsby watched Tom with a dark challenge, cold amusement and underlying hatred all playing upon his smooth features. He took Daisy gently, meeting her eyes.

"Daisy, tell him."

Daisy looked away from Gatsby to Tom, tears once again brushing over her eyes. "I never loved him," she whispered. Sudden uncertainty, sudden fear, colored her tone and eyes. She didn't believe herself.

"Never?" Tom asked, moving to her again. Daisy wanted to believe there was hurt in his eyes. "Not that day I carried you down from the punch bowl? Never?"

A tight sob caught in Daisy's chest. She closed her eyes, bringing her hand up to her mouth, and the tears fell harder. She recalled that day, fondly, and her heart squeezed the way it had when she'd looked up at him and he'd taken her breath with a kiss. "Tom-" she began, but a strange voice silenced her.

"Nick Carraway and Jordan Baker," the voice was saying. "They told me to meet them here."

"They're in the dining room with Mr. and Mrs. Buchanan," one of the butlers told the woman. Their footsteps neared. The butler stepped aside and in walked a beautiful young woman. Her hair, a mess of elegant red curls, fell loosely over the shoulder her soft blue dress left exposed. It framed her flawless, heart shaped face and drew attention to her calm, azure eyes.

"Rose," Nick spoke slowly. He'd forgotten about inviting her. "You look lovely."

"Just take a seat, dear," Jordan told her humorlessly, gesturing to the table. Rose stopped, looking at Nick and Jordan, the discomfort in their postures. She looked at Tom, taking in his tense shoulders and his hard eyes, and she looked at Daisy. Seeing Daisy, her red eyes and crushed expression, set several alarm bells in Rose's head. She'd obviously come at a bad time.

She looked lastly at Gatsby and the world fell away. The small clutch at her side was dropped carelessly to the floor.

"Jack," she'd breathed the forbidden named quietly, a caress to the air around him.

Gatsby's eyes had widened several sizes, settling directly on Rose. She said his name and he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Even after all this time, she still made him feel like he was that kid again.

"Rose," Jack croaked. His Gatsby persona had abandoned him, gliding away with the wind that blew through the windows.

Her eyes brightened with unshed tears, her voice thickened. "You… That night… I…."

He understood her confused babbling -her heart spoke to his like it had when they'd loved before. Nothing had changed.

He'd never thought it had, though. He'd convinced himself to forget her, yes, and to become someone other than Jack Dawson so that his experience on Titanic might one day be a distant dream. But ignoring it hadn't changed anything.

"Rose," Jack repeated, taking a small step towards her. He was so thankful she'd lived, he wasn't angry that she'd let go. Had she found someone else? What was her life like now? Everything she'd wanted before, had she obtained it?

All of this rested on the tip of his tongue, but nothing spilled from his lips. The words caught in his throat and stayed there.

Rose, upon seeing his bold step forward, took two steps before throwing herself forward. He moved to catch her, his arms closing hard around her torso. She was suddenly sobbing, her fingers curled into fists on his back.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," she repeated those words over and over and over again. They faded to quiet cries after several minutes, mumbled into his shoulder. He rubbed her back in soothing strokes, whispering sweet words he couldn't remember. His fingers knotted into her hair as he held her. An irrational part of his mind told him she would disappear if he released her, so he kept his arms in place.

Ages seemed to pass before she finally stepped back. Even then he kept his arms around her, kept his eyes on her face.

The others in the room let themselves breathe again. Time started once more.

"I take it you two know each other?" Tom asked, light sarcasm in his words.

"We were … friends a few years ago," Rose answered softly.

"Friends?" Jordan asked skeptically.

"I didn't know," Nick said dumbly.

Jack ran his hands up and down Rose's arms softly, as if it was all he could do to prove she was real.

"I think it's time everyone went home," Tom announced. "This," he gave Jack a long hard look, "can wait. You apparently have other matters to attend to."

Jack met his glare and then turned to Daisy. She was watching him with slight confusion, her eyes asking for an explanation she wasn't sure she wanted to hear. However, there was understanding and relief in her gaze as well.

"Go ahead, Jay," she told him softly. "I'll be all right." She smiled a strained smile. "We'll all have tea tomorrow. You can tell us about how you two know each other."

Those words meant more than anyone else realized, though the meaning would dawn on them later before they fell asleep that night.

The crowd dispersed in pairs, Daisy and Tom going one way, Jordan and Nick going another, Jack and Rose opposite of them all.

The first pair spoke quietly in their room that night. Tom held his wife's hand, watched her eyes, and promised her a new world where his heart would be hers only.

The second pair spent the rest of that day at a nice restaurant in New York, celebrating the remainder of a forgotten birthday.

The third pair sat on the edge of a dock, with their fingers entwined, and recalled the last few years without each other. Apologies were exchanged and new promises were made.

_You jump, I jump. Right?_

* * *

**So… Let me know what you guys think. I changed a few things up, but I hope it's still good. This was very spontaneous and it was interrupted… So I'm not completely sure how good it is…. **

**Oh, and I own nothing. **


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